Ebb shakes his head. “I know it’s different for every ghost. The Beyond, and what ties us here, is such a mystery. But I think… I caused something terrible to happen, and I need to cause something good to happen to make up for it—I’ve believed that for years.” He dims and glows, like a ghost blush, as he looks at me. “I always thought if I could protect you, like I didn’t protect my parents, maybe that would be it. But if anything, I helped get you in trouble in the first place. And also I just want you to be safe.” He blushes again.

As he speaks, something catches my eyes in the dim moonlight that filters into the cave. Ghostly spiderwebs. Hundreds of them, sparkling in the moonlight like fine, delicate strands of silver. The webs are glowing—luminous webs made by a luminous, ghostly creature. They are beautiful and strange, delicate and miraculous.

But the strangest thing of all is that they’ve been—impossibly—spun into words.

“Burp,” went the bat. And out came a galaxy, the inhabitants of which never learned that the bat that burped them out had ever existed.

“I’m Higgle Piggle, the Elf in the shoe, and I’m going to give your breath back to you.”

“Hey,” I say as a strange recognition slowly dawns on me. “Those are words from my stories.”

Now Ebb practically turns supernova bright, a massive blush.

“I taught him,” he admits, gently cupping Fred from his shoulder and depositing him at the center of one of the webs.

“Taught him my stories?”

Ebb glances away, embarrassed. “Yours, and lines from the books you read too. He likes the words. I like them too. They… help me.”

“What do you mean?”

Ebb thinks for a long time, looking sheepish, before continuing.

He sighs. “All I know is, my afterlife was pretty glum until you showed up in the house. Even as a baby, you were quiet, but full of something bright. Then you got older and started writing your stories, and I read them over your shoulder. And… well…” He looks at me, at a loss as to how to explain. “There’s so much to be afraid of,” he goes on. “Even the world’s sweetest, most innocent things are not safe from witch darkness. But your stories always made me feel like it was possible that everything could be okay somehow.”

Now it’s my turn to blush. I don’t know what to say. I think of all the times the books in my room have helped me when I felt sad or lost, and to think that my stories could do that for Ebb feels strange, and good. I feel deeply embarrassed and warm inside. I reach out toward one of the webs, and just barely touch it. There is something so beautiful and delicate about it, fragile but strong somehow.